


An Occasional Dream

by GabrielVincent



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: 1960s!!!, David Bowie!!!, M/M, nice carpets!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-17
Updated: 2011-09-17
Packaged: 2017-10-23 20:03:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GabrielVincent/pseuds/GabrielVincent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the 60s. It's Charles' bedroom. David Bowie is on the record player. An exerpt from a gorgeous evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Occasional Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Well really I just love David Bowie and wanted to give these two a moment of zero-angstyness. Make them like an idyllic 60s couple. Kind of influenced by the moments in Velvet Goldmine illustrating the first stages of Mandy and Brian's relationship where it's all far out moments of amazing philosophical revelation and warm, hazy sex. I also wrote it a while ago and forgot about it. Do forgive me any errors.

The red and gold tones of the room were familiar to Erik, but tonight they seemed that little bit warmer. Any un-lived-in coldness that comes with those sprawling English mansions had vanished from the room, and all that was left was the comfort of the plush carpet he sat on and the smoke being pushed from his mouth.

Charles lay on his back opposite him, his hand on his stomach and one leg bent up, closing his eyes slowly as he let the sensations engulf him. The album they were listening to matched the scene perfectly, epic, journeying songs sung by a gentle voice with a gentle guitar.

 _"In our madness, we burnt one hundred years...time takes time to pass, and I still hold to me...an occasional dream..."  
_

Erik shifted, lying on his side next to Charles where he propped himself up on one elbow and watched the almost-white ribbons drift from his slightly open mouth. It was lovely to watch, the contrast of colours with his red lips and glowing skin, the hypnotic rise and fall of his chest, the fluttering of his thick lashes as he opened hiseyes, smiling a smile that reached them and made them glitter in the flickering candles on the table.

 _"And we'd sleep, oh so close, but not really close our eyes...between the sheets of summer bathed in blue, gently weeping nights..."_

It seemed like a natural enough movement for Erik to reach out and sweep long fingers lightly over the wine-coloured cord on Charles's legs, trailing his hand over his bent knee and back again, gentle and almost subconscious. After a while Charles caught his hand, interlocking their fingers and admiring the shape they made. He turned his head to face Erik, that look of lazy content never leaving him. He tugged at the hand he held and Erik shuffled closer, the tops of their arms pressing together and generating warmth between them both. Erik put out his cigarette and leaned over, his lips brushing Charles's forehead only lightly. When Charles tilted his face towards him better they kissed slowly, tasting of the same tobacco, the same wine, the same happiness.

They ran hands over each other, first the tips of Charles's fingers inside the neck of Erik's jumper, Erik stroking at the silk of Charles's shirt, then over warm skin, their bodies basking in the light that turned them into shimmering flickering figures. They were obscured by tiny flames into one perfect creature, feeling like the same being and forgetting what it felt like to be cold. Charles followed the protrusion of Erik's hipbone with one finger, pulled him as close as he could be, and Erik scraped his nails ever so delicately over Charles's spine.

When they lay side by side again, their fingers were entangled like they'd never been seperate- maybe they hadn't. Sensations returned to both of them gradually, remembering the music that was so perfect it had simply blended out of focus. Now it came back, the album ending, eyes closing, Charles leaning up to drag a blanket off the bed and pull it over both of them.

 _"Oh, to capture just one drop of all the ecstasy that swept that afternoon...to paint that love upon a white balloon, and fly it from the topest top of all the tops that man has pushed beyond his brain...Satori must be something just the same."_


End file.
